


Musechaser

by NightskyGardenia



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art student Peter, Drawing, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Model Tony, Modeling, Muses, Nude Modeling, Portrait Sketching, Praise Kink, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, confident coy Tony vs Peter discovering his praise kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 20:11:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20031655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightskyGardenia/pseuds/NightskyGardenia
Summary: Eighteen year old art student Peter Parker is desperately searching for his muse, someone who can bring his creative skills to the next level through inspiration. Lucky for him, his next class just so happens to feature a gorgeous model by the name of Tony Stark, a man Peter's convinced is his muse, to the point of staying after class to ask for private modeling sessions.





	Musechaser

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, thank you so much to Momo-chan and Caspar for encouraging me to write this and enduring the snippets I sent them to look over!
> 
> This is my first time writing Starker, so let's see where it goes.

Peter shifted slightly, his mind hovering in the blank space between consciousness and sleep, when sudden blaring from his alarm clock forced a groan of contempt from him. "Ned-" He called out, his voice thick from sleep. "C'mon, class starts soon-" Peter lifted a hand and felt around blindly, not for his alarm, but for Ned's leg dangling from the edge of the bunk bed above. He managed to get a loose grip on his roommate's ankle and gave it a shake, par for the course of their regular morning routine. "Wake up, we're sketching live models today!"

When all he got in response was a noncommittal grunt, Peter rolled out of his bed, his hand releasing Ned's ankle to slap down on the alarm clock, silencing it's wails. "Seriously Ned, if you're not ready in a half hour, I'm out the door." He hurriedly pulled a nearby shirt over his head, tussling his already sleep-mussed hair, before realizing he put it on backwards _and_ inside out.

By the time he fixed his shirt and wiggled into a slim pair of jeans, Ned had finally sat up in the top bunk, yawning and stretching. "What's got you so excited? We've done live models before, remember?"

"Yeah, and I was just as eager then as I am now-" Peter shouldered the door to their closet-sized bathroom open and stepped inside. "I've got a good feeling about this one, Ned. Like I might really find my muse this time."

Ned snorted and he could hear his roommate moving around in the cramped bedroom, followed by the shuffle of clothing as he got dressed. "You said that last time too." He pointed out. "Not every artist needs a muse, Pete."

Peter rolled his eyes as he balanced his toothbrush between his teeth while pulling his socks on one at a time. Sure, Ned was right that he didn't _need_ a muse, but that didn't stop him from _wanting_ one. The idea of finding someone out there that was so striking and vivid that it stoked a person with inspiration was enough to make any college level art student wish for such a chance encounter.

"Says the guy who's preference is still life." Peter mumbled awkwardly as he brushed his teeth.

"Still mad about that one time with the fruit bowl?" Ned slid his arm into the bathroom and began groping around the sink for his deodorant, knocking Peter's comb and rolled-up-to-the-nozzle tube of toothpaste to the floor in the attempt.

"No-" Peter started, breaking off his response to spit into the sink. "-I'll absolutely admit my mango looked like a lopsided basketball." He leaned down to scoop up his comb, quickly working the bristles into chestnut hair as he straightened up. "Point is we're in my element today and I'm both excited to get there _and_ so nervous I could pass out, so can we _please_ leave for the bus already before I change my mind and hide under my bed?"

Ned poked his head inside the bathroom, giving him a once over before quirking an eyebrow and grinning. "You might want to try wearing your underwear _inside_ your pants, Superman."

Peter glanced down at the fashion mess he had gotten himself into in his haste and swore under his breath, squeezing his way past his roommate at the door and flinging himself down on the bed to wriggle out of his underwear-on-the-outside combo. "Bathroom's all yours, we're leaving in ten!"

*****

By the time they had arrived for Professor Connors' class (fifteen minutes _early_, Ned noted with a roll of his eyes), Peter could already feel a flock of frenzied butterflies settling in the knotted confines of his stomach. As he carefully unpacked his supplies, he thought back to the last live models featured in the class- Clint Barton and his partner Natalie Rushman, which MJ swore had to be a fake name the latter used for modeling. Ned figured it was some kind of inside joke between the two, given how Clint smirked a little when Natalie was introduced by Professor Connors.

Personal details like that didn't matter to Peter, not when the they had been so amazing to paint for. Neither of them had been shy about assuming an intimate position together for the lesson's portrait and they radiated a sense of calm professionalism that set Peter at ease for the duration of the class.

At first it felt like Natalie could've been the muse Peter was so desperately looking for. She had a gymnast's body- lean, muscled thighs and the way she slightly arched her back suggested ballet, if he had to make a guess. But when it came to painting the details of her face, Peter's favorite aspect of realism with models, he started to struggle. That wasn't to say that Natalie's face wasn't beautiful or anything! Peter just happened to have a 'the eyes are the windows to the soul' approach to his art, and at that moment, Natalie's eyes were on Clint, as though they were the only two people in the room...

"Peter?" A voice called into the fog of his thoughts, startling him with the sudden intrusion, which earned him an amused snort from Ned.

"Wh- oh, hey, MJ!"

She shook her head, a look of bemusement on her face as she began setting up her work station. "What planet were you on, Parker? Hope the weather was nice." MJ quipped, taking a seat and inspecting her pencils.

Ned spoke up before Peter had the chance to defend himself. "He's hoping today's model ends up being his muse." He winced as he adjusted the clamp on his canvas, forcing it down a little too hard with a sharp bang.

"Good luck with that, Musechaser." MJ shot Peter a dry smirk as she used their all too fitting nickname for him. She stood up to help Ned with his canvas and by the time she sat next to him once more, Professor Connors was calling attention to the front of the room.

"Alright, alright, find your work stations." Professor Connors called out over the din of art students mulling about. He waited for the sounds of shuffling supplies and scooting chairs to subside before waiving his left and only arm in the direction of the whiteboard, on which was written _free form expression, live model study_. "As you may have guessed, the intention of this session is the fostering of creative freedom by offering each student the chance to choose their own medium for expression today- whether it be oil paints on canvas or charcoal on sketchpad, all venues for art will be accepted and welcomed, provided your work remains focused on today's model."

There was an electric tingle in the air of the classroom as the professor paused, and Peter heard Flash muttering that he hoped today's model was Natalie- this time without Clint. He would've rolled his eyes, but Professor Connors was speaking again, and Peter leaned forward in his chair, chest tight with anticipation.

"With that in mind, let me introduce our model for today's class- Tony Stark." Professor Connors motioned with his hand in the direction of the door, inviting the other man inside.

Peter actually held his breath, his white knuckled hands gripping tight to his sketchbook as he waited on the edge of his seat, his gaze keenly focused on the door as the handle turned, then eased open.

Where would he even _start_ mentally describing the man who just walked into the classroom? _Start with the clothes, Parker._ Tony was wearing a black, sleeveless muscle shirt that was absolutely living up to the name with the way the fabric stretched over the older man's abs. His jeans were form fitting, but not overly tight, held securely at the hips and showing off the curve of his ass when Peter felt brave enough to steal a glance, his face flushing when he dared. Oddly enough, when his gaze reached Tony's shoes, _that's_ when Peter was given a small insight into the model's life. Shoes like that, pristine and made from sturdy leather that probably cost as much as a semester's tuition, were the mark of a man with money or connections. _Or both._

Peter steeled himself as he slowly brought his eyes back up to have a look at Tony's face, his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips. He knew this would make or break what he was looking for in the older man, but when Tony's gaze connected with his for a fraction of a second, it was like an undeniable puzzle piece had clicked into place.

The breath Peter took immediately after was like surfacing for air after slowly drowning all his life until this very moment.

_Tony Stark is my muse._

"Ned!" Frantically trying to work the muscles in his throat to swallow, Peter hurriedly whisper-hissed to his roommate when it became evident that he would have a better, more straight forward view of Tony's face if he was just a few inches over. "Ned, I need us to switch seats!"

"Wait, what-"

"Just switch seats with me!" Peter got to his feet and tried as discreetly as possible to swap stations with Ned, but it was just his luck that their professor took notice.

"Mr. Parker, Mr. Leeds, if you two wouldn't mind finding your seats, we can proceed with class." Professor Connors leveled his gaze at each of them in turn, his voice cool but firm, and, much to Peter's embarrassment, easily projected throughout the classroom.

He plopped into the seat he had more or less stolen from Ned amidst scattered chuckles, face flushed and holding his sketchbook up like a shield, pitting hope against hope that he hadn't made himself look like a total idiot in front of Tony.

"If there are no further interruptions," Professor Connors swept his eyes over the students, then stepped back to allow the other man central focus at the front of the classroom. "The floor's yours, Tony."

The model didn't need any additional prompting as he leaned back slightly, one hand flat against the professor's desk behind him, his other hand tucking a thumb into the waistband of his jeans, exposing a sliver of skin at his stomach and the tease of a line of fine hairs that made Peter suddenly wish this was a session involving much less clothing. Taking a quick breath through barely parted lips, he shifted in his seat, his eyes tearing away from Tony for the split second it took to grab a pencil from the case he balanced against a thigh, and the moment Peter felt his fingers brushing against it, he brought his gaze to bear on the older man once more. He wanted to keep his eyes on Tony as consistently as possible, the better to take in the details of the model.

Whatever embarrassment Peter had felt when he switched seats with Ned was long gone, replaced by white hot determination and a bolt of inspiration as he sketched out a rough outline of Tony's facial features. Even amidst a class of twenty-something students and the mingled sounds of pencils and brushes on paper and canvas, Peter was so focused it felt like Tony was the only person in the room, the only sounds being the soft skritching of his pencil, his own gentle pulls of breath, and the distant rhythm of his heartbeat in his ears.

Peter almost didn't realize that Tony was staring directly at him, his hand slipping slightly as he finished sketching the details of the model's strong jaw, his face flushing lightly. Tony was looking at... him. Tony was looking at _him._ The way the older man's lips quirked slightly in amusement shot a thrum of electricity down his spine, which almost caused Peter to drop his pencil.

He cleared his throat and bit down firmly against his lower lip to keep himself focused. _It's fine, everything's fine._ Peter assured himself as he firmed his grip on his pencil, lifting it to begin detailing Tony's eyes- which would, of course, require Peter to look the older man directly in the eyes. _Just slowly lift your head and meet his eyes. That's easy, right? No big deal, he's just the most gorgeous man you've ever seen. No pressure at all!_

Despite the chaotic mire that was Peter's thoughts, he lifted his gaze over the top of his sketchbook... and found that Tony was still staring directly at him, as though there wasn't another student in the room, as though it was just the two of them there. A calm settled over Peter in that moment as an unspoken understanding passed between them, further solidifying that the older man was exactly what he was looking for in his muse.

Peter knew better than to speak during class, so instead he straightened up in his seat and leveled his eyes on Tony's, locking his gaze on the older man as he mouthed three simple words:

_Eyes on me._

Tony clearly understood, blinking his richly expressive eyes exactly once, slowly in comprehension.

A soft smile of appreciation formed on Peter's lips as he returned to his work, finding himself getting absolutely lost in the depths of the model's dusky-brown eyes. A few flicks of his wrist lined Tony's eyes with lashes and he leaned in close to detail _exactly_ how the lights overhead reflected in the older man's gaze. God, his eyes were _beautiful_, and Peter was hardly aware of the time as he grabbed a blending tool and began detailing Tony's face, from the crinkles at the corners of the model's eyes to the exact cut and style of his beard.

"Five minute warning, people." Professor Connors had just finished a circuit around the classroom to check on their progress. "Find a stopping point and start packing up for the day. You have until next class to polish your work, and as a reminder- I don't accept late assignments."

Peter gave a start of surprise and sat up, blinking his eyes into focus after being hunched over his sketchbook for longer than he thought. _Gotta stop doing that. Your gymnast days are long behind you, Parker._ When he straightened up in his seat and stretched, Peter was met with the sight of Tony's face in full on his sketchpad, styled in richly detailed photo realism. Where other students might be disappointed with his focus being set primarily on the model's face given the time they had, Peter knew art was subjective and Professor Connors would acknowledge his effort and attention to detail. The eyes in particular... every time Peter glanced at them, staring up at him from his sketchbook, he felt his throat tighten, his heart thrumming against his chest.

He _had_ to stay after class so he could speak with Tony alone and figure out some way to get the older man to model for him again. Distantly, Peter realized he didn't have money to hire him or even a studio to invite Tony to model in, but he crushed the discouraging realities in his thoughts. Art was about chasing your passions, right? _Let's get running, then._

A quick glance at the thick, rectangular case that housed his high quality pencils, currently balanced on his thigh, gave Peter an idea. A present from Aunt May for pursuing a career in art, the case that housed the pencils was clam shell-styled and open, meaning the pencils inside would spill if he moved his leg slightly, giving Peter the excuse he needed to stay after class while gathering them up again. This plan wasn't without risk, though- some of the pencils were going to break falling from this distance to the floor, which made Peter's stomach clench with a pang of guilt. _Sorry, Aunt May!_ He thought as he shifted his leg, watching the metal case from the corner of his eye as it wobbled, then slid away from his thigh, falling with a clatter that ejected several pencils onto the floor.

"Nice going, Penis!" Flash laughed, hip checking Peter's shoulder roughly as he passed by.

Ned flipped the other student off while his back was to them, then looked over to him. "Need some help?" He offered.

Peter shook his head as he carefully closed his sketchbook. "It's fine, I did that on purpose." He admitted, keeping his voice low as other students began filing out the classroom.

"Why would you-" Ned, who had already freed his canvas from the easel, was interrupted by MJ as she clapped a hand firmly against his shoulder.

She sent Peter a glance that clearly read 'I know what you're up to' before steering Ned toward the door. "Don't know about you, but being forced to bend my artistic ability to social norms makes me _really_ crave a plate of nachos."

With Ned and MJ gone, Peter was left to his plan, awkwardly sitting sideways in his chair as he deliberately took his time gathering up the scattered pencils until the only people left in the classroom were himself, Tony, and Professor Connors.

"Thanks again, Tony." The professor extended his arm, giving the model's hand a brief shake.

"Any time. Show me a few of the finished pieces, would you?" Tony grasped Professor Connors' hand, then turned his head, the model's cool gaze landing firmly on Peter, pinning him in place as he quirked an eyebrow. "Looks like someone's lagging behind."

Professor Connors turned his head and frowned slightly. "Mr. Parker? Do you have a question about the assignment?"

"No, sir!" Peter answered a little too quickly as he crammed the rest of the pencils into the case, doing his best to ignore another stab of guilt over the few that had broken in the fall. "I wanted to speak with Mr. Stark, actually."

The professor and the model shared a glance, with Tony giving a relaxed shrug, before looking at him again. "Sure, why not, kid."

Peter's heart jumped into his throat and he almost tripped over his own feet to stand from his chair. _Steady, steady. Keep it cool._ He reminded himself as he approached the two older men, his eyes flickering from Tony to Professor Connors and back to Tony. Wait, how did words work again? _No, nonono, think, Parker! Make words happen!_

Professor Connors seemed to sense he was having a difficult time and softly cleared his throat. "Tony, this is Peter Parker, one of my more promising students."

"Yeah?" Tony's eyes took him in carefully and Peter swore the temperature of the room skyrocketed. "That's high praise coming from a guy like Connors. Not that I needed to be told how good you are- I could see how focused you were during class. You mind if I get a look at what you were working on? Just to sate my curiosity."

At first, Peter thought he was going to blank with his words again, but his response was eager, excited. "Sure!" He opened his sketchbook, his hands shaking a little in his excitement as he flipped it open to the page he was working on and handed it over to Tony.

"I should be getting to my next class." Professor Connors glanced at his watch and looked to the door. "If you have questions on the assignment, Mr. Parker, you can reach me by email or visit my office." He glanced at Peter, then Tony.

"I'll keep in touch, Connors." The model offered the other man an easygoing smile, then returned his attention to the sketchbook in his hands as Professor Connors left the room.

Tony's expression wasn't hard to read at all, the older man's jaw was set, but it was in a look of concentration, not irritation. His shoulders were lowered and relaxed, his hips cocked slightly to one side. Peter had taken enough classes on body language to tell that the older man was taking in his work with careful consideration before speaking, which made his chest tighten as he waited for Tony's assertion.

The model's eyes flickered along the page before lifting to look up at Peter once more, the smile on his lips equal parts coy and impressed. "I could tell you were taking this seriously. And, just as I thought-" Tony's smile was now a satisfied smirk, showing a hint of teeth. "-I was right."

Peter reached forward to take the sketchbook that Tony returned to him. _Now or never, just ask him. Who's nervous? Not me!_ He took in a quick breath and launched into speaking without hesitation. "The whole reason I stayed after class was to ask if you'd model for me, sir. In private. I don't have a studio or money-" Peter blurted out, immediately regretting it and desperately trying to find a reason for the older man to give him the time of day. "-but if you'd just give me a chance..." _Give me a chance? **That's** the cliched line you're going with?!_

"Deal."

_Wait, what?_ Peter stared wide eyed at Tony. "You're... serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Tony asked. "You caught my interest with the work you've shown me, not to mention, in a class full of students, you managed not only to attract my attention, but also hold it. How did you put it to me earlier, the words you mouthed out? Oh, right-" The words he spoke next were deeper, huskier, and sent a flash of warmth through Peter's body. "_Eyes on me._"

It took a moment for the disbelief to wear off and Peter was sure his face was flushing brightly. "I just- oh man- thank you, Mr. Stark-"

"Tony." The model corrected, grinning once more.

"Tony." Peter repeated breathlessly, nodding his head.

"Don't worry about the whole not-having-a-studio thing. Lucky for us, my apartment isn't too far from here, and between the rooftop garden and the balcony overlooking the city, you're bound to find a place that ignites a creative spark." Tony mentioned that so casually, as though it was completely normal for a model to invite an art student into the privacy of his home, but for all Peter knew, the older man did this on the regular.

The thought of this not being something special and unique to them both left Peter's mind the moment he felt Tony's fingers brushing against his own, the older man coaxing his sketchbook from his hands once more, flipping it open to the last page as he grabbed a pen from Professor Connors' desk to jot down his address.

"There we go. Let's say... noon this Saturday." Tony decided as he handed the sketchbook back and this time Peter _knew_ the older man let their hands touch on purpose. "See you then, Pete."

And just like that, Tony was gone from the classroom, leaving Peter alone with his roiling thoughts and a face flushed with excitement. _Did that really just happen?_ He immediately lifted a hand and gave his cheek a sharp pinch. _Ow! Okay, okay, not a dream!_

It was around this time that Peter realized he was very, _very_ late for physics. "Professor Banner's going to kill me!" He hurriedly shouldered his backpack and made a mad dash for the door.

*****

When Saturday finally came around, Peter swore Ned was the best roommate a guy could have. Not only did he have a pot of coffee on for when Peter woke up, but Ned also managed to stop him from running out the door only in his boxers when he forgot to get dressed in his excitement to meet up with Tony.

It was only while standing outside, plucking at the hem of his '2b or not 2b' shirt while waiting for his Uber, Peter realized with a jolt of panic that he left his art supplies back in the dorm.

_Way to go, Parker, now you're going to be late and-_ Peter's internal chastising came to a sudden stop as he bolted to his feet from the bench he was sitting on and more or less crashed into Ned, who was standing in front of him, Peter's shoulder bag of supplies in hand.

"Woah!" Ned managed to keep his footing, but the same couldn't be said for Peter, who fell back to sit on the bench again. His roommate waited a second before handing the bag over. "You must really like this guy if you're willing to forget your clothes and art supplies to meet with him."

There was just enough of an amused undertone in Ned's voice to make Peter's lips quirk up sheepishly. "Well, I mean, you were in the classroom, you saw how-" He made a vague up and down gesture with his hands. "-you know?" Peter did the gesture again, hoping it would convey what he meant.

From the look on Ned's face, it absolutely didn't, but his roommate gave a snort that was half sarcastic, half humorous and shook his head. "Good luck with that, Pete. Just don't eat the eye candy, alright?" He grinned and flashed double finger guns at him knowingly.

"What-" Peter broke off when a battered black car with a red star emblazoned on the hood pulled up to the curb. A quick look at the man inside, unshaven with long hair and wearing a baseball cap, confirmed it was his driver. Forgetting what Ned was getting at, Peter stood from the bench again, making sure he didn't collide with his roommate this time. "Ride's here, see you later!"

Peter heard something that sounded like _'have fun, Musechaser!'_ over his shoulder, but with the excited fluttering of his heartbeat in his ears, he couldn't be entirely sure.

The ride over to Tony's apartment was pretty easygoing, all things considered. The driver didn't really make any attempt at small talk, but, in Peter's opinion, he had an interesting taste in classic music. The man couldn't have been older than his late thirties and yet he kept the radio on a station that stuck to tunes from the fifties. That was fine with Peter, since the music was energetic enough to push fast forward on the twenty minutes it took to arrive at the address scrawled in his sketchbook.

"Thanks for the ride, Mr.-" Peter paused, bringing up the app to give the man a tip, his eyes flickering to the name of the driver. "-Barnes." He tapped the button marked for five dollars and shouldered his bag as he pushed the car door open to step out onto the sidewalk.

The sight that greeted Peter when he took in the building in front of him almost made his jaw hit the pavement. He didn't need an eye for architecture to appreciate the design, particularly the welcoming look of the smooth stone steps flaked by immaculately white pillars that, on closer inspection, had a carefully sculpted vine pattern etched into the surface. Peter took a few steps back and lifted his gaze, squinting against the bright, cloudless sky, and sure enough, he could see the tops of leafy plants near the top of the building, a hint of the rooftop garden Tony had mentioned.

_Ned's not going to believe me when I tell him about this place._

Peter took to the stairs and noticed the door was gated, but he already anticipated that with how Tony had written 'call me, apt 503' just beneath his address. His throat tightened as he reached over to the keypad affixed to the right of the door, punched in the numbers 5-0-3, then waited as the call rang once, twice...

"Hey, kid." Tony's voice came in through the speaker. "The door should buzz you in, just a sec."

_Bzzt._

After opening the gate, then the door, Peter found himself in a pleasantly air conditioned lobby, where he immediately honed in on the doors of an elevator. Once inside, he pressed the button marked for the fifth floor and did his best not to fidget as the doors closed and the elevator began to rise. Was it just his imagination or was this place playing actual elevator music?

The feeling of rising came to a gradual stop, followed by the arrival chime of a bell and the doors rolling open, allowing Peter to step out onto the fifth floor. Any and all details of his surroundings seemed to slip past him as his gaze flicked along the numbered plates on each door- 500, 501, 502...

Peter fully intended to give himself at least five minutes to settle his nerves, but seemingly of it's own accord, his hand lifted and firmly knocked on the door. _Why did I even **do** that?!_ To add to his own rising embarrassment, Peter's arm seemed to lock in place, freezing him in an awkward position as Tony opened the door.

"You alright, Peter?" The model asked when he eased the door open, mild confusion in his expression.

"Huh? Oh- yeah, fine!" Peter managed to jerk his arm back, almost smacking himself in the forehead, but managed to play it off by running his fingers through his hair with minimal awkwardness.

Was it just his imagination or was there fondness in Tony's smile as the older man moved to the side to let Peter inside?

"Want something to drink?" Tony offered as he closed the door, leading the way further into the spacious apartment. "I've got water, coffee, scotch-" The model quirked an eyebrow and gave him a quick once over. "-wine? That's an artsy kind of drink, right?"

"Water's fine." Sorely tempted as he was to sketch with a bottle of wine at the ready, Peter wanted to stay focused and clear minded. While Tony took a detour to what he assumed was the kitchen, Peter wandered over to look at the balcony, where sunlight streamed into the living room through a set of full pane glass doors. The view of the city outside was just as picturesque as Tony claimed, and if these visits became a regular thing (Peter optimistically hoped that they would), he could easily see himself painting the model as he leaned on the railing, bathed in the lights of the city that surrounded him.

"_There's_ the focused, determined look I saw in the classroom."

Tony's voice and the glass of water that was pressed into Peter's hand had him blinking his eyes into focus and turning to face the older man. "Sorry, I was just, y'know- thinking." Peter considered the idea of sketching Tony on the balcony, but something about that didn't feel right. If he was going to do a piece with the model and the cityscape, he wanted to paint Tony's features highlighted in a blend of natural and man made light, while it was dark outside. Without his painting supplies and with it being midday meant that wasn't an option, though.

"The garden, then?" Tony had picked up on the way he was staring at the balcony and was attempting to help with a different suggestion, but Peter's eyebrows knit as he shook his head.

_Somewhere inside._ He took a small sip of water as he mulled over his options, glancing along the room they were standing in, a tastefully decorated living room that was subtle and sophisticated on the eyes. _Somewhere comfortable._ Peter's gaze came to rest on the one piece of furniture that stood out from the rest.

Elegant, classy, and contrasting a bit with the lounge chairs that flanked it, was an old fashioned couch with golden wrought legs and trim. The fabric of the cushions and pillows was a creamy-white, matching the wrought metal in a way that set it apart from the rest of the furniture in the room.

"Used to belong to my mother when she was alive." Tony's gaze had tracked Peter's to the couch. His tone balanced the line of casual and controlled, but his expression was difficult to read. "She insisted I take it when I moved out, and I've been stuck with it ever since." With the way the model said that, Peter was positive Tony wouldn't get rid of it for anything in the world, not in a million years or for a million dollars.

Peter considered the room's lighting for a moment, then turned to meet Tony's eyes, his decision firm and his voice steady when he spoke what came to mind. "I want to sketch you laying on that couch-" He didn't hesitate or flinch from the older man's gaze as he continued. "-and I'd like you to be nude, if that's okay with you."

It wasn't like Peter's entire demeanor had changed, but it was as Tony had said- focused, determined. He knew he should at the very least feel a little flustered to see the model naked, there was no way Tony didn't look like he could give Adonis a run for his money, but for the sake of his art? Peter knew how to keep it together on a professional, mature level.

"Sure, why not? Wouldn't be the first time I've relaxed in my living room naked." Tony slid his hands under the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head, tossing it over the arm of a chair.

If the older man was offended by Peter's suggestion of using his late mother's furniture like this, he would've absolutely said so, which put Peter at ease with one concern at least. Enough for him to smile playfully at Tony as he moved a chair to the center of the room, adjusting it slightly a few times to give him the best view of the couch. "You do that often?"

Tony snorted at the question. "Remind me to tell you about the time Clint and Natasha dropped by to celebrate the wrap up for my Calvin Klein shoot."

Peter blinked in surprise as the model slid his pants to the floor, the jeans pooling around his ankles. It was a long shot, but... "There was a guy named Clint who modeled for our class a few weeks back, but he was with a different woman, someone named Natalie-"

"-Rushman." Tony finished his sentence, a mischievous grin touching his lips as he hooked his thumbs on the waistband of his briefs. "That's Natasha's stage name. She'd kill me if she knew I told you, but if you somehow end up talking to her about it, she'll kill you too. Might want to consider that."

_Huh. MJ one, Ned zero._

"Nat and I go back a few years, we met when the director of her _Cosmopolitan_ cover shoot decided she needed some arm candy." Tony's eyes glinted with amusement, but whether that was due to the older man reminiscing or the fact that he had pushed his briefs to the floor, Peter had no idea. "You wanted me on the couch, right?"

It was do or die time- Peter had to be able to direct Tony confidently and professionally to instill a sense of trust between them, a sense of trust he desperately wanted to be present if Tony was the muse he had been searching for. "Yeah, on the couch. Let me just-" Peter hurriedly set his sketchbook and pencil case on the seat of his chair and straightened up, catching sight of the model standing there, completely relaxed and at ease even without a single piece of clothing on him.

To Peter's credit, he didn't blush at the sight of Tony naked in his living room, patiently awaiting further instruction. It seemed criminal to refer to the older man as merely gorgeous, even in the privacy of his own thoughts as he slowly, carefully gave Tony a once over- with an artist's eye, of course. The model's arms were toned, as were his legs, with a slim waist and torso that suggested a strict routine of daily exercise. When Peter's eyes reached Tony's chest, his gaze held on a sprawling network of scars that started just below the center of the older man's collarbone and spread outwards along the muscled expanse.

There was a story behind old scars like that, but Peter knew better than to ask. If it bothered Tony any, the model didn't mention it at all, nor did it show on his face when their eyes met once more. "Lay down on the couch, on your side, facing me." Peter motioned to the lounge, deciding the best way to sidestep a potentially awkward situation was to keep going with the sketch session.

"And here I was, thinking you'd mix up the words 'couch' and 'bed'." Tony lamented with a disappointed sigh. "You're putting Jack Dawson's Freudian slip to shame, kid."

"What, like in that old movie _Titanic_?" Peter's eyebrows rose in surprise as he recalled the exact scene from the film that was mirroring the situation he found himself in at present.

The older man frowned in contempt. "Really? 1997 wasn't _that_ long ago. And before the idea even crosses your mind- I'm not saying the French girls line. This body's one hundred percent American." Tony gestured a hand along the length of his body.

Peter was torn from his thoughts of a gem-like the Heart of the Ocean resting in the center of model's webbing of scars when Tony moved his arm like that. "Wait, hold on-" He stepped over to the edge of the couch, taking Tony's forearm in a firm, guiding grip. "-put your arm here again." Peter was leaning over the older man, not concerned with personal space as he moved Tony's arm to drape along his thigh, the model's hand splayed against a hip.

"Lay back against the pillow behind you- there we go." Peter bit his lower lip in thought as he contemplated what to do with Tony's other arm, when the arm in question lifted, the model's fingers brushing against the side of his face to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind an ear.

"You should consider branching out into modeling." Tony ran his thumb along the line of his cheekbone. "The look of concentration on your face right now? I know a few people in the industry who'd cream their pants for models with features that expressive."

Sheepishly, Peter ducked his head, but even so there was a sincere smile on his face. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll stick to paints and pencils." His eyes flickered over the older man for a moment longer. "Prop your head up with your other arm." He felt Tony's fingertips skim along his cheek as the model moved his hand back and did as he was told. "Don't ball your hand, relax it against the back of your neck- just like that."

Without taking his eyes off Tony, Peter backed up to his chair and grabbed his sketchbook and pencil tin. He sat down, then adjusted the chair, turning it to face the older man more fully and scooting a few inches forward. "Okay- lean against the pillow and relax your face-" Peter took in a quick, short breath. "-like that." He balanced his pencil tin on his thigh and flipped open his sketchbook, his lower lip between his teeth in concentration as his fingertips skimmed the pencils until he found the grade of graphite he was looking for, returning his eyes to Tony as he straightened up. "Remember the words I mouthed to you in the classroom?"

The older man's stoic expression was softened by a small smile. "Eyes on me. As though I could look at anything else, Peter."

Peter returned the smile, just for a moment, before touching the pencil to the paper of his sketchbook, and soon the silent atmosphere of the living room was filled with the sound of soft, barely there skritches as he worked. The focus was Tony- first and foremost, Peter began with the rough outline of the model's body, down to his hips, with his sketchbook held lengthwise to work with the width of the piece. Ordinarily, he would have moved on to sketching the couch, but before Peter realized it, he had pulled another pencil from the case and started the more detailed work on the older man before him, ignoring everything else in the shot for Tony- for his muse.

The minutes melted by in a content haze, with Peter swapping pencils as he saw fit, occasionally stopping to brush away bits of eraser that were left behind or purposefully smudging the graphite with his thumb to start working in some shading. It was a surprise when Tony spoke up, but a welcome one, and Peter found it much easier to converse with the older man while they were like this.

"So, how'd you get into all this art stuff anyway?" Tony remained perfectly still, and Peter wasn't sure if it was the light shifting the warm colors of the model's eyes or something else entirely when he glimpsed over the top of his sketchbook.

"My Uncle Ben used to take me to Central Park a lot when I was younger. I must've noticed of the artists one day, because the next time we went there, Uncle Ben had bought us both a pair of sketchbooks and pencils." Peter's eyes were focused on the page and his hand was still moving, slowly detailing the muscles in Tony's arms and chest- he paused, then carefully sketched in the scars, every intimate detail in their appearance on his skin. "We sat in the park for hours, almost the whole afternoon. Pretty sure my uncle couldn't draw more than stick figures, but when he saw the first drawing I did that day, how proud he was? I'll never forget that." His words drifted off and he moved his pencil from the paper, lowering his sketchbook to his lap. Maybe this was the part where Peter was supposed to say how his uncle had passed away years before he was accepted for college and he fully planned to dedicate his first art house piece to him, but the words just wouldn't come. _Don't ruin the mood, Parker. Besides, Tony wouldn't want to hear about that anyway._

Realizing that he had stopped working altogether, Peter lifted his sketchbook again and buried himself in lining the model's tight stomach and slim waistline. "What about you?" He asked hurriedly, trying to move past the awkwardness of his own thoughts. "How'd you get into modeling?"

"Got approached by a guy in the industry named Yinsen while at some charity gala Howard- my father, attended to make good press." The older man shrugged, his shoulders relaxing back into position as though he hadn't moved them at all. "Pretty sure I was around your age- twenty? Nineteen?"

"Eighteen." Peter corrected. He saved detailing Tony's face for last and took in a quick breath as he started with the model's beautiful eyes, which were now lit with reminiscing.

"Would you believe me if I said that was my next guess?" Tony's tongue darted out to wet his lips, his gaze honed in on Peter's even when he started to speak again. "Anyway, I figured why not and stopped by his studio the next day for a trial run- no brand deals, minimal lighting, and a one time contract to see where things went. Next thing I knew, Obadiah Stane was offering me a contract through his modeling agency a few months later and I've been working with him ever since."

Peter was actually breathless as he spent the later half of their conversation working in the details of Tony's richly expressive eyes. Determination, resolve, and tenacity reflected in the dark brown depths as the model recounted the start of his career.

As much as Peter wanted to know more about Tony, he found himself concentrating more and more on his work. The familiar, warm lull he felt the first time he sketched the older man was now blooming in the pit of his stomach, spreading out to his fingers and toes the longer the session went on. There was just something so intimate about this, something that set Tony and his beautiful eyes apart from anyone or anything Peter had ever featured as the subject of his art, something distinctly _Tony_, that let him know this man was his muse without a shadow of a doubt.

It was only when Peter shifted his position in the chair and his eyes flickered over to the clock on the wall that he realized they had been at this for three hours. _Woah. Time flies when you're staring at a gorgeous guy, I guess!_

"We can take a break if you need to stretch or get something to drink." Peter spoke up, setting his sketchbook on his lap as he took his own suggestion to heart and spread the fingers of his dominant hand, feeling the satisfying tingle that came after gripping a pencil for so long. If his hand felt that way, he could only imagine what the older man was going through, having to carefully hold the same position and expression for a few hours. It was imperative to Peter that he was perceptive of Tony's comfort, not only as a responsibility to his muse, but as a foundation of trust between them.

"Don't mind if I do." Tony relaxed against the couch, then stretched and Peter found himself staring at the firm, flexing muscles of the model's stomach. The older man looked content as can be as he stood up, which suggested to Peter that this might not have been the first time Tony was featured nude in his modeling career.

"We're almost done, just need to sketch the couch and work in the shading." Try as he might, Peter couldn't keep himself from sounding reluctant to end the session. He didn't even know how to tell Tony that he was his muse, that he wanted to do this again, that the man was breathtaking in every sense of the word!

Peter was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't hear the soft padding of the older man's footsteps as he moved to stand directly behind his chair. "Mind if I sneak a peak at the work-in-progress?" Tony's husky voice sounded right next to his ear, warm breath bathing against the side of his neck.

Before Peter could say anything (not that he would have, he immediately liked the sudden closeness), the model leaned forward, his chest pressed up against Peter's back as his arms hung loosely over his shoulders. It's where Tony's hands ended up, firmly pressed against his thighs, that had Peter's throat tighten and his tongue flickering out to moisten his suddenly dry lips.

"Oh! Uh- sure!" Peter felt the bristle of Tony's neatly trimmed facial hair against his cheek, the model's hands pressing more firmly on his thighs as he leaned forward to look at the sketch. He took in a quick breath, holding it as he waited for the older man's assessment, pitting hope against hope that Tony couldn't hear his heartbeat thundering in his chest.

"Christ, Pete, you're amazing at this." Tony's heated breath skimmed along his neck as he murmured the words. The model's hands gave his thighs an encouraging squeeze, and, God, Peter's legs opened as if by command, much to his embarrassment.

"Tony, I-" Peter's voice was breathless and barely above a whisper. His words failed him the moment he turned his head and their lips brushed together, a sensation that stole the air from his lungs, his gaze darting up to Tony's gorgeous eyes in shock. "Sorry, I didn't mean-!"

Words were the last thing on Peter's mind when the older man closed the distance between their lips for a firm, but somehow tender kiss. _Oh God, this was **actually** happening!_ Peter shoved the intrusive thought from his mind and pressed into the kiss, a muffled sound escaping him when he felt the model's tongue tracing his lower lip. As much as he desperately wanted to keep going, Peter needed air, and he surfaced from the intoxicating kiss with a gasp, panting softly as he met Tony's eyes, as darkened with stormy arousal as he was sure his own were.

"Wow..." Peter couldn't even bring himself to be embarrassed with his reaction, not when his lips were still tingling slightly. He ran his tongue over his lips, trying to savor the taste of the older man on them, and it took all the strength of will he had not to surge forward to kiss him again.

"Yeah, _wow_." Tony repeated in amusement, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiled. "You liked that, Peter?" The model asked as he began rubbing his thumbs in small, soothing circles along Peter's inner thighs, his tone laced with huskiness.

Instead of answering, not trusting himself to speak at the moment, Peter crushed their lips together again. He heard their teeth click slightly from the sudden kiss and a muffled groan of _fuck_ from Tony, then one of the model's hands was against the back of his neck, nails digging against the soft, sensitive skin- a shiver rolled down Peter's spine and he had to pull back again. "_Tony_-"

"Easy, baby. Let me take care of you."

_Baby? Oh God..._ Peter felt a moan slip past his barely parted lips as his eyes flickered open to the sight of the older man staring at him with an intensity in his dark amber eyes that took his breath away. There were a hundred reasons they shouldn't keep going, but like hell if Peter could think of a damn one at the moment, his words consensual and clear as he spoke. "Don't stop."

There was no hesitation from Tony the moment those words were spoken. "Relax and enjoy yourself, sweetheart. You worked so hard today." The model's voice was deep and mesmerizing, Peter offered no resistance at all as Tony's fingers slid into his chestnut hair and pulled, not enough to be rough, but instead guiding him to lean back against the chair. The older man's other hand slid inward against Peter's thigh, his thumb skimming over the zipper of his jeans and the strained erection trapped within them.

White hot tendrils of pleasure coiled in the pit of his stomach from even the most minimal touches, and before Peter could stop himself, he was panting and begging. "Please... Tony, _please_-"

"So eager." Tony half chided, half purred, nipping at the shell of his ear. Both of the model's hands were against his thighs now, confident fingers working to get the button of Peter's pants undone, followed by the zipper. Tony tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and boxers, then pushed down enough so that they were riding low on Peter's hips, exposing an inch of the base of his cock, surrounded by a bed of soft curls. The older man used a hand to inch his boxers down until, with a hitched gasp from Peter, his flushed erection was free of constraints, bobbing a bit before standing tall on it's own.

"You're in good hands, Pete."

Literally, as the case turned out to be- the feeling of Tony's soft hand and firm grip around his cock was _heavenly_, and there was no word, poetic or otherwise, to describe how it felt when the model gave a slow, single pump with his wrist. "Fuck-" Peter's head lolled back, resting more against Tony's shoulder than the chair he was sitting in. He set his feet flat against the floor and rolled his hips up, chasing after the friction the older man's hand offered.

"Feeling impatient?" Tony asked, lightly squeezing his cock before letting go.

Peter whined in protest at the sudden lack of warmth wrapped around him and didn't care how desperate he sounded. "Wait- Tony-" He swallowed hard against the panic rising up in him when the older man stepped back from the chair.

"_Relax_, Peter. Just need to grab some lube." The model chuckled as he slid open a side table drawer and rummaged a hand inside before pulling out a half empty tube. "Lucky for us, I always have some on hand."

In the moment of clarity Peter had now that Tony wasn't touching him, he wondered if the older man did this kind of thing regularly- but promptly decided it wasn't worth overthinking the second Tony returned to stand behind him and had a hand on his cock once more, and the addition of lube to the model's hand pulling a moan of pleasant surprise from him.

"Now you can move with me, baby. Roll your hips up with my hand, nice and slow."

Peter nodded his head hurriedly and tried to take in a breath before doing as Tony said, but the feeling of moving his hips, the feeling of his cock gliding against the older man's fingers and palm? Words just couldn't describe it, and Peter's head had fallen back against Tony's shoulder once more as the rhythm of his hips quickened, his jaw slack and eyes closed as he moaned without reservation.

Tony seemed content with that for a moment, until his other hand, braced against Peter's thigh, pushed down to stop his thrusts, and the model nudged his shoulder against the back of his head. "Keep your eyes open, Peter. Look at yourself when I touch you. I want you to see how good your cute little cock looks like this."

"I-I can't-" Peter whimpered, trembling in his seat. "I'm gonna- I'm gonna cum if I look, sir." Oh, _that_ was going to be embarrassing when Peter replayed things in his mind, but he was too far gone in his pleasure to realize what he just said.

"You _can_, sweetheart. You're so fucking beautiful like this. Don't you want to see that?"

Peter didn't even know he had a praise kink until Tony mouthed those words against the heated surface of his throat, the words sinking past his skin to set his blood on fire in his veins. He stopped trying to rock his hips against the hand on his thigh holding him still, and he slowly sat up from leaning against the chair and the older man's shoulder. And when he opened his eyes...

He couldn't make a sound at the sight that greeted him- sitting in his lap, despite the earlier movements of his hips, was the sketchbook with Tony's breathtaking, graphite eyes staring up at him, all while the model's hand slowly pumped his aching, flushed cock, each patient motion of Tony's wrist causing precum to leak from the reddened head, with the older man being all too eager to swipe a thumb against it, sparking pleasure in Peter that made his hips jump.

Peter let out a strangled sound of pleasure as heat and need twisted deep in his stomach, making him wish his clothes were on the floor with Tony's. _Next time._ It was a lot for him to assume there would even be a next time, but Peter needed to believe that as he sank into the white hot feeling that was rising up inside of him, all by his muse's hand.

"Wait- my sketchbook-" Peter panted, barely managing to get the words out at all. As much as staring down at the model's portrait while Tony stroked his cock aroused him, Peter didn't want to make a mess over it, though the mental image of white streaks falling over a sketch in Tony's likeness made his toes curl in his shoes.

"Pull your shirt up, sweetheart." Tony murmured, his voice deep and rough. "Lean back and let me handle this. Can't wait to see your face when you cum for me, baby."

Peter scrambled to tuck his fingers under the hem of his shirt as he hurriedly pulled it up, exposing his pale, heaving chest and pink, stiff nipples. His hips were bucking hard against the older man's hand, his rhythm becoming all the more erratic when Tony's free hand slid into his boxers and squeezed his balls.

"Tony!" Peter's voice cracked as he cried out, the movements of his hips stuttering as his cock pulsed and he felt warm spurts of cum against his stomach. He tilted his head and pressed his face into the model's neck, Tony's hot skin acting as a buffer for his fragile, wordless whimpers as one of the most intense orgasms of his life rippled through him, leaving his body weak and his mind hazy in the warm, foggy aftermath.

"Just like I thought-" Tony's voice intruded on Peter's bliss and he felt the older man's hands leave him, though one brushed against his stomach, fingertips dragging through the mess that coated his skin. "-absolutely beautiful."

"Mhn- Tony, you're gonna ruin me..." Peter mumbled, not hinting in any way, shape, or form that the model should stop.

"You're already ruined, Pete." The older man countered smugly with a grin to match.

Peter huffed out a breath and inched back, blinking his eyes into focus so he could gaze up at his muse. He knew he could call Tony that in the privacy of his own thoughts, certain that this handsome, amazing, cocky man was the person he had been searching for.

"Your turn?" Peter asked, his throat tight as he imagined returning the favor, maybe with his mouth...

Tony shook his head slowly as he tucked Peter's soft cock back into his boxers, then fixed the zipper and button of his jeans. "Let's save that for next time."

Peter's sudden spike of panic was immediately undercut the moment Tony said the exact words he wanted to hear. _Next time. There's **actually **going to be a next time!_ "You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that."

The model moved back so Peter could look over his shoulder at him, an eyebrow raised in mild amusement. "What, you think I regularly invite random art students over and pose for them naked or something?"

A soft flush colored Peter's cheeks and he looked away sheepishly. "Honestly? Would you blame me if I did?" He winced internally, prepared to be laughed at, but all Tony did was chuckle as he cupped the side of Peter's face and guided him into a quick kiss.

"Then it'll really surprise you when I tell you this is the first time I've had someone do a private portrait of me like this." Tony stood up and stretched his back, letting a hand linger on Peter's shoulder, fingers brushing against the fabric of his sleeve as he returned to the couch.

"Seriously?" Peter asked, pushing the front of his shirt back down and firmly ignoring the weird, damp feeling of the mess against his stomach.

Tony laid down on the couch, assuming the exact pose he was in earlier, but that wasn't too surprising to Peter. The older man was a model, after all. "The way you look at me while you're working, the way you directed me into position when we started, confident in knowing exactly what you wanted? I've worked on sets that _wish_ they had a guy like you behind the camera, calling the shots.

Peter balanced his pencil case on his thigh once more and paused when he lifted his sketchbook, blushing again as his eyes darted over the edge of the paper to look at the older man. "If you want me to be completely honest here? All of that focus and attention I have for you... it's because I know you're my muse, Tony." His words were steady as he met the model's eyes.

There was a pause, then Tony had a broad smile on his face, his gorgeous eyes shining. "If that means I get to see you more often? I'll be whatever you want me to be, kid."

A warm, comfortable lull settled over them, and Peter was able to finish the sketch after two hours leisurely passed. "Looks like we're just about-" He carefully swept a hand against the paper to clear away any remaining eraser shavings, then sat back in the chair to glance over his work. "-finished."

Tony was dressed and standing behind him again, his hands at home on Peter's shoulders and his thumbs tracing slow, idle circles against the back of his shirt. "Your realism's never going to stop amazing me, you know that?" The model murmured softly, tilting his head to press a quick kiss to Peter's temple.

He felt a ball of warmth form in the center of his chest from Tony's words, a feeling that was entirely separate from his newly discovered praise kink. Peter was truly happy with the way things had worked out, the satisfying results literally in his hands. "I want you to have it."

The older man took in a quick, short breath. "You sure?"

Peter closed his pencil case and slid it into his bag, then grabbed a black sharpie and scrawled his signature into the corner of the portrait followed by the date. "Now I'm sure." He carefully pulled the sheet of paper free from the sketchbook and offered it up to the model with a sincere expression on his face.

Tony gently took the sketch with his left hand, then stole the sharpie with his right, leaning forward against Peter so he could jot down a string of numbers onto the corner of the next sheet of paper. "Call me sometime." The model said as he straightened up to set the portrait on the safety of a nearby counter top.

And just like that, their art session had come to an end. Peter didn't drag things out as he packed his sketchbook away and shouldered his bag, walking with Tony to the door in content, accomplished silence. When the older man opened it for him, Peter stepped out of the apartment and turned to face his muse for the last time that day, trying to commit every single detail of the model to memory.

"So." Peter shifted his weight in his legs. "Until next time?"

"Until next time-" Tony met his gaze, his dusky brown eyes pinning him in place as he uttered a single, breathtaking word. "-_Musechaser_."

The ball of warmth Peter felt earlier bloomed in his chest as he immediately closed the inches between them, leaning up on his tiptoes as he clasped his hands against Tony's shoulders and firmly pushed their lips together. He felt the older man's hands against his hips and held the kiss for just a moment, then stepped back with a smile so broad it bordered on being painful, he was _that_ happy.

Peter barely remembered walking down the hallway and stepping into the elevator, but by the time he leaned back against the cool, smooth wall as it descended, he could feel that his smile was giddy and radiant now that he was alone.

_You're **so** crushing on him, Parker._

Maybe it was all happening way too fast, but Peter couldn't bring himself to care. He found his muse, a man unlike anyone he had ever known, and he wanted to see what their chance encounter had set in motion.

And, more than anything, Peter was hoping the next time they mentioned came sooner rather than later.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments help encourage my writing, so please don't be shy when leaving them! Thank you!


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